"Accomplishments"
In theaters: Knives Out meets Babe meets Peter Rabbit in The Sheep Detectives... and I can't believe how much I enjoyed a talking CG animals movie made by the director of all those Minions movies. Sure, he pushes the slapstick for the kiddies, and the human characters can sometimes be a little broad, but none of that really matters considering that 1) the murder mystery works, 2) the humor is often quite amusing (the idiot cop played by Nicholas Braun is a human highlight) and 3) it's touching as all get out. And if there are kiddies watching, they'll be confronted by adult topics like death, grief and bullying, and as the sheep in the story are child-like in their understanding of the world, it actively addresses it in a way kids can learn lessons from. While Hugh Jackman, Emma Thompson and Hong Chau are in the live action cast, it's the voice cast that's REALLY stacked, and one of the most impressive things the movie does it differentiate the sheep early and memorably. Did the book this is based on have sequels? Or should we be requesting a crossover with Benoit Blanc?
At home: Structurally fractured not unlike his Long Day’s Journey Into Night, Bi Gan's Resurrection has quite the metaphysics. Humanity has given up dreaming, which ensures immortality, but certain "Deliriants" rebel and can hide in dreams, effectively time travelling by doing so... What's important is that history and dreams are both equivalent to cinema. The Deliriant (Jackson Yee) is tracked to the silent film era (in crisp, color HD), then manipulated into coming forward through different times and genres, creating a sort of anthology linked by themes of decay (his choices mean he is dying) and bitter immortality (how he sees his society), and various fairly subtle leitmotifs (music, some kind of case or valise, water). Visually arresting, I often found each of Resurrection's constituent parts interesting enough to be feature films, and yet thinking of them as full meals that needed no additions. Bi Gan's notion that our society thinks in cinematic terms and that cinema has replaced memory, history and psychology is a pregnant one that we must oppose to what he might mean about the "future world" where dreaming is outlawed. Is it innate to despair? To a voiding of art in favor of merchandise? At the same time, isn't there a danger in seeking refuge in dreams/media? Can we really take the film as an answer to the world's problems? And I realize I say this as a pretty deliriant person myself.
When DIY master Michel Gondry gets a new phone that offers time-lapse photography, he immediately starts creating animation with it as a way to keep in touch with his little daughter Maya who is back in France, based on the prompts she gives him. Maya, Give Me a Title is a compilation of some of the results, construction paper stories filled with the flights of visual fancy Gondry is known for (Eternal Sunshine, The Science of Sleep, Be Kind Rewind). The surreal absurdism will obviously delight children, but it has its effect on adults, too. On the one hand, it's rather inspiring to see a film maker work with tools we all have access to - like, why aren't WE making our own animated films? - and on the other, despite the simple and silly fairy tales produced, there's clever intricacy to them that could only come from the brain of an artist. A lot of charm and fun.
After his parents are murdered, Maco (Marko Zaror) hones his martial arts and patrols the streets of Santiago as Mirageman, a hapless "superhero" who might just be his traumatized kid brother's only way out of near-catatonia. What's cool about this admittedly cheap-looking action flick is that it presents a pretty realistic take on the subject - how the media would treat it (even his "Lois Lane" is beholden to corporate media), what kind of dumb mistakes one would make, and there's a dark grittiness to the types of crimes being committed (almost in opposition to the story's inherent comedy). But honestly, the action is pretty repetitive over time, and the plot holds few surprises. We perhaps don't spend enough time on character growth - it's there, but needed more or longer scenes. Mirageman's fighting stance is nevertheless etched into my mind. Zaror's fighting ability would later land him roles in Machete Kills, John Wick 4 and Fight or Flight, and here we see him in action without any cinematic magic - it's all dead-on, no camera tricks, and I appreciate that.
Where do I even begin with The People's Joker? Perhaps with: It's an extremely courageous film. On the one hand, Vera Drew is using clown/harlequin metaphors to tell the story of her becoming and transition, warts and all even if the numbers are filed off by the Gotham City setting. On the other hand, it's using fair use rules to employ trademarked characters quite boldly, for parody and social criticism, taking a lot of potshots at real people, too. On a third, mutant hand, it has an extremely indie collage vibe with crowdsourced animation, computer models and arts & crafts to create this insane/hypersane world, and it someone works. This DC Comics fan loved the references and subversions - I laughed a lot, and maybe wiped a tear out of the the corner of my eye at the end - and beyond the trans narrative, the film has a lot to say about gender politics in comedy. Absolutely bonkers in every way, and by bonkers, I mean genius. Full frickin' marks.
A sort of changing of the guard in Iranian cinema, The White Balloon is Jafar Panahi's first film, but written by his mentor Abbas Kiarostami, and indeed, it has a lot in common with Where Is the Friend's House? Here again we have a child obsessed with something in only the way children can obsess over things, which takes her through a neighborhood journey where she finds only trouble. I didn't know about the Iranian custom of getting goldfish for New Year's, but this particular little girl wants a really fancy one and pesters her mother for the money to buy it. When she later loses the money, it's the end of the world and both she and her brother often get in their own way trying to retrieve it. An immensely frustrating experience that had me on the edge of breaking down if and when the objective was achieved - I was incredibly invested. Of course, the movie isn't sure I should be. Let's be honest, the little girl is pretty bratty, and that we get sucked into her quest regardless is a miracle of cinema. And at the end, we're left with the feeling that we should rethink whether it made sense to be on her side. And yet... Haven't we all been there in some way?
Once upon a time, Bob Odenkirk directed a small indie film called Melvin Goes to Dinner, a kind of spiritual successor to My Dinner with Andre (though its jumps through time and flashbacks make it its own thing), that has four thirtysomethings basically admit to a lot of dark and embarrassing stuff because they don't know each other very well. It's a dinner (and a lot of drinks) with friends of friends and that allows Melvin and the rest to fully open up. Religion, death, sex... it's all on the table and pretty involving. What the script actually manages is a plot-through-conversation, with a resounding triple-climax no one was expecting. That, and the many cameos by recognizable comedy stars - Odenkirk has roped the likes of David Cross, Fred Armisen, Jenna Fischer, James Gunn and Jack Black into this, and on the drama side, Melora Walters plays Melvin's girlfriend - is what papers over the film's many technical imperfections. The film is often out of focus, the camera has trouble framing people with all the bottles in the way, and I can't quite get behind that one series of flashbacks presented as stills. But I had fun with the character dynamics and what they had to confess so... it's still a win.
[1957] Il Grido: Michelangelo Antonioni paints a picture of depression, at once personal to the character of Aldo (Steve Cochran) and more broadly, that of post-war Italy, or else Aldo's journey through a fog-bound, blasted heath where jobs are scarce and villages are always on the cusp of being flooded or abandoned, is scarcely necessary. After his marriage proposal is refused, Aldo leaves his home town and his job, taking his little girl with him. And everywhere he goes, he meets a woman who is ready to jump into his arms and into his bed. But he can't seem to shake he woman he was in love with, or the melancholy that has seized his soul - it IS depression, and perhaps the world looks so bleak because we're seeing it through his eyes. Aldo is such a deadened, closed-off character that all these women (the daughter included) all seem more interesting than he is, and I resented leaving any of them behind. But Aldo is a man who leaves... everything. Il Grido means "The Cry", and it's an existential one.
[1958] King Creole: Elvis Presley's best movie? It's certainly the most serious, a Noir directed by Michael Curtiz of all people, who almost made me believe it was going to be a full-blown musical with that opening sequence (as opposed to a film about a musician who happens to sing a lot of songs as part of the plot). It's based on the novel A Stone For Danny Fisher, but the film replaces its boxing for musical talent, and Brooklyn for New Orleans. Nevertheless, the music is better integrated in the story than those bubblegum pictures where Elvis just randomly picks up a guitar and sings one of his hits, and Curtiz shoots this New Orleans tale like it's Tennessee Williams. The music is bluesy to match as well. Walter Matthau plays the heavy who really has it coming to him, and the situation for Elvis's rebel without a cause is pretty tense given his options. James Dean had been considered for the role of Danny Fisher when it was still being developed as a boxing movie, but I think that all things considered, 1) Dean had already played this type of role in better films, and 2) there are many boxing noirs, and making it about music refreshes the formula.
RPGs: Following the end of our Call of Cthulhu game, GameMaster Ian suggested Masks, a superhero game (Powered by ApocalypseTM) that focuses on teen angst and drama, à la Young Justice. He set it in a version of the DC Universe where the main heroes are spread out over different eras and are a little more diverse, but are more or less in a mentor/inspirational role for our own heroes. I went with a Legacy character, and that legacy? My beloved Dial "H" for Hero! So he's the nephew of Chris King (Chris had an annoying kid brother, Gary) who was selected to wear Chris's H-Dial after he retired. But he keeps a close, judgmental eye on young Hugo King (simply called "H" in this fictional comic). Vicki Grant is still alive and a villain, whose Dial continues to be attracted to his, and he gets weird messages from Robby Reed in the Heroverse (as per the Miguel Montez series). Annnnnywayyyyy, I scoured the Internet for terrible AI superhero art and slapped names and abilities on them (sometimes modified the art myself to fit an idea I had, and SOMEone has to care about the number of fingers on each hand) - these are meant to be disposable, one-hour identities, so I leaned into the slop. To keep myself honest, I created these Dials and shared them with the GM, so when I roll my d20, I HAVE to take what I rolled, even if it's no help to the situation at all (and some of these guys have very dumb powers, just like in the comics).
I'll present them fully in these diaries, as they come up. So we had our Session Zero this week to hammer out the details of the team. We're called the Masks (very simply, now the RPG is named after US), or in the media as the Midway Masks, since I suggested we defend Hawkman's old city (it's fairly uncharted territory these days, and it's across the border from Ontario, where everyone else in the group lives). My teammates are a new teen version of Hawkgirl (another reason for Midway), cursed with visions of her early death, and Telekine, a psionic too powerful for his own good. We answered the GM's questions as to potential content, established starting relationships, and helped each other with back stories, now we're ready to go. Let the angst begin!
The final Act in our current Torg Eternity side-adventure (see below for a full review of the Mega-Adventure as published), the Agents of Eris meet some old foes and some old friends, and based on how those encounters go, might have some help against Ryuchi, the former High Lord of Pan-Pacifica here trying to drop a Maelstrom Bridge from a "Pirates of the Caribbean" dimension so he can sap its energies and turn the Philippines into his own little territory, in the hopes of sticking it to his sister, currently in charge of PP. The PCs enter the climax pretty drained, but with allies (these are ineffective in battle, but better as support personnel). Their greatest support, however, is my villain's abominable Soak rolls, so they kill him even before the Dramatic Skill Resolution task (disconnecting his network of reality-establishing stelae) resolves. This only proves doable with masterful card trades. In the end, however, they might have done better to destroy the original piratey stelae (they debated it, but found no easy way to wade into the middle of a lagoon), because the net effect is bringing "Malagwa" to Core Earth and I will designate a little patch of islands as that cosm's territory. In epilogue, the PCs properly convince the authorities that they meant well, and are offered various deals, most returning to their old lives undercover to stick it to Kanawa Corp (or in one instance, to take care of his mom). Back to the main campaign next time.
Best bits: Not too great in a gun battle, the Hacker makes an enemy's phone remotely explode, turning the tide of battle in Act 1. The other big thing there is that the Merc forces the most physically powerful enemy to disconnect and then transform to Core Earth's reality, really nerfing what was an ambush at a resort pool. As the Aswang returns for a "last scare", capsizing the PCs' catamaran, the Merc pulls out a silver machete that finally destroys the creature after the rest of the crew stuns it. The Psionic was in his "Aquaman phase", telekinetically throwing jellyfish, seaweed and clams at the bad guys all night to distract them. The Street Ninja sneaks up behind Ryuchi at the end, as the former High Lord's power armor sparks from a fulgurokinetic attack, and (regretfully) runs his katana through him - Kanawa chuckles to himself that he'll never see Malagwa land (perhaps also because he knows he's just a clone, so this doesn't have to be the end of Ryuchi's story). As a giant ship with black sails drops down from the sky, bringing hurricane winds with it, the PCs make a break for it, and the Ninja stumbles over the first Malagwan treasure, a cursed locket that makes people covetous of it - he ends up giving it to the director of Operation: Eris (his simple-mindedness made him immune to its "preciousness" and now it's someone else's problem. As for convincing the authorities that they meant well even as they were doing Kanawa's business, the fact they had recorded the double agent's ranting admissions proved very handy. Good call, that. Unfortunately, they made another call during the course of the adventure that wasn't so great for the campaign world...
Books: I was quite frustrated with Operation Soft Sell. On the one hand, I loved the premise behind this Torg Eternity mega-adventure. You play undercover agents in Pan-Pacifica, trying to get close to its former High Lord who is planning some reality-transforming evil in South Asia. You're often on the side of wrong, trying to thread the needle between good and evil, and the action is fairly varied. BUT editorially, it's a terrible mess. I'm used to typos in TE products (and there are some doozies here), but it goes beyond that. NPCs change nationalities between Acts, you're given a rendezvous to point X at the end of an Act and the next starts in a completely different location, and several Acts feel unfinished with no Aftermath section and in the worst case, an undefined threat attacking and... no other paragraph to tell you who it is, with no mention of it in the following Act. It's really like different writers handled different chapters and no coordination was offered. More damning still is that the climax action isn't logical. And it's not like there wasn't room for the missing pieces! There's some descriptive repetition across the book, and the page count is bolstered by appendices cut from the main Pan-Pacifica sourcebook. The articles on the Delphi Council's secret service and hacking are relevant, but the xenogospog stats and Kadandra (a cosm that's part of the lore) write-up have no connection to the story. And it drives me crazy that we have more information on Kadandra than we do the alternate cosm that's actually a part of the adventure! It's a great idea for a story, but the wheels start to come off at the end of Act 3...
Original Torg's second tie-in novel, The Dark Realm, is the middle part of a trilogy (this chapter written by Douglas Kaufman), and in some ways, a side-quest. A character was badly hurt in the first book, and the party has to go to Orrorsh - the horror realm - to save his life. We have less need for "assembling the group" stuff, but the book is still partly dedicated to introducing and dramatizing elements from the game. Potential players will be misled if they think they can actually go up against a High Lord, however. So it's a tighter book, but there are still stray pages that keep the other cosms alive, even if they seem irrelevant to the plot (as yet). The book's biggest weakness, however, is that it tends to retcon characters for its own uses, and I'm not too keen on those uses. For example, an unimportant NPC from Storm Riders is shoehorned into the role of a PC's brother, then has an unearned heel turn that isn't at all necessary to advance the plot. So it was okay, but only just okay.
While it's thin as a "making of" per se, The Art of Star Trek: Lower Decks still collects the thoughts and observations of the best of NuTrek's shows (I said it!) in the margins of lavish set paintings, ship models, sketches & studies, abandoned designs, and character models, from the show as a whole and for each of its 50 episodes. It's great to be able to peruse environments and spot various Easter Eggs without the need for a Pause button, and I ended up discovering design choices that I hadn't noticed or thought of while watching the show. It made me appreciate the work that went into Lower Decks even more. If I have a complaint, it's perhaps that the last season gets short shrift, as I remember designs that aren't in the book (the Klingon barge is one), as if we were running out of pages. Similarly, while the Strange New Worlds crossover is mentioned, the SNW models would have been nice to see. Nevertheless, I feel like this is a picture book, I'll open again and wax nostalgically over. 7 seasons and a movie, you cowards!
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